The Feminine Persuasion
by AndreaLyn
Summary: xover with BtVS. Chase meets a woman named Anya and things get definitely different when he wakes up a woman. Things get worse when Chase falls for someone he definitely shouldn't. GENDERSWITCH. CHASExWILSON.
1. Chapter 1

I know this story is fairly old, but I'm trying to import it over to so I can lock up my LiveJournal, so to anyone reading it for the first time, I hope you like it. 

* * *

Chase slowly slipped his boxers back on, smiling at Anya before leaning back down on the bed and crawling over to her, slipping her bra strap off her shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin, grinning at the soft sound she let out, a sort of half-gasp. She buried her hands – the nails perfectly red – in his hair and peered at him curiously. 

"Tell me about your last girlfriend," she asked, somewhat bluntly. As Chase had discovered from that night, she liked to be blunt. They had met in a bar and she had been tapping her heel against the air and it was like she was waiting for him and just him. He'd bought her a drink and brought her back to his place.

Chase toyed with the strap of her bra, running his thumb up and down the satin. "She was a banker. We went out for a few weeks."

"And then what? You dumped her?"

Chase scowled slightly, pausing in his lips' path. "It was a mutual break-up."

"It's never mutual," Anya countered smugly. Chase just chuckled lightly, rolling over and tugging the sheets up higher to cover both her and himself. He rested his head lazily on her shoulder, eyes falling shut as she idly brushed her fingers through his hair. "Did you choose someone else over her?"

"Work," Chase yawned the word and fell asleep quickly, exhaustion creeping in.

And he could swear, as he fell to sleep, he heard the word 'done' whispered. 

* * *

He woke up groaning, his head hurt like hell and Anya was still there, chanting and spilling some kind of powder around him in a circle. "What…" he gasped, but he was tied down to the bed. "Anya!" He thrashed and tried to break loose. 

"See you later, Rob," Anya smirked, her face contorted into some monstrous form and she continued chanting in a low, demonic-sounding voice. Chase bucked hard, trying to break the restraints, but she…it…whatever Anya was, stepped towards him and painted a symbol on his forehead with her thumb, whispering something that sounded vaguely like Latin.

Chase felt drowsiness overwhelm him and he passed out, nothing but fear striking him. 

* * *

When he awoke again, the birds were chirping, Anya was gone, Chase was untied, and things were different. They definitely _felt_ different. He pressed one hand to his eyes to rub them and winced, his nails a little sharper than he'd recalled. He groaned and made a mental note to cut them when he froze. 

Listened to himself.

Looked at his nails.

"Oh, shit." 

* * *

"Chase? Are you in there?" Cameron knocked on the apartment door worriedly, a bag of bagels in her hands. Chase had paged her, begging for her to show up as soon as possible. She knocked again, a little more insistently when Chase didn't answer, and her worry began to overwhelm her. "Chase? I got your page, are you okay?" She knocked again and this time, there was a response; the door had been opened just a little. Cameron frowned, wandering inside and seeing a woman walking away from her – blonde, wavy hair disheveled and her figure hidden by Chase's boxers and shirt. "Uh…sorry," Cameron stammered. "I was looking for Rob." 

The woman turned around and simply smirked. "Well, you found me."

Cameron's eyes widened and she froze in place, the bag of bagels dropping from her grip as she clasped both hands over her mouth in shock. "Oh my god," she said, the words running together. "Oh my god. Oh my _god_, Chase?" The eyes looked the same. The same jaw. The accent was a giveaway and the smirk said it all.

"I brought a woman back home with me last night," Chase explained, the voice sounding melodic and Australian, the same cadence as Chase usually had. "And when I woke up the first time, she was…doing something really fucking freaky, Allison, I mean, _really_. The second time I woke up," Chase continued, gesturing downwards. "This had happened."

Cameron was still gaping in shock. Chase's shirt wasn't large enough for the chest, pulling at the buttons there and the face had softened and gone feminine. Her hair was perfect – Cameron wanted to scoff at that; naturally it was perfect, it was Chase – but now it was just past Chase's shoulders, wavier. Cameron's mother would have described Chase as having a classic face of beauty. Not enough to be a model, but something like a screen starlet from the forties, the fifties.

"Oh my god," was all Cameron could say, staring.

"What do I do?" Chase asked, voice tiny and worried.

Cameron took another long look at Chase, biting her lip and frowning. Chase was still about two inches taller than her, so her pants wouldn't fit and shirts might be tight, considering Chase looked to be about one cup size bigger than her.

"We go shopping," Cameron said determinedly. "Get on a pair of jeans, a sweater," she advised, hiding the smile on her face with her hand. Robert Chase was a _woman_. She definitely had something to be amused about for the next week or … wow, year even.

Chase just stared at her helplessly, pouting.

"Chase," Cameron said sternly. "If you're going to be a woman, at least let me make you as drop-dead gorgeous as I can."

"Well," Chase grumbled, biting her lower lip. "Fine."

It was a damn good thing Chase had money to spend because the way Chase went through stores and picked clothes made Cameron envious. They were loaded down in bags by the time they left the mall and Cameron found herself…well, _enjoying_ the time. It was like going shopping with her older sister again – before her sister had gotten married, had kids, and moved fifteen hundred miles away.

"You'll look great in the stuff we bought you," Cameron said encouragingly as they loaded up the trunk to Chase's car. She shut it and leaned against the BMW's trunk, peering over at Chase, studying her face because it was still so very weird. Chase was a woman. Chase was a good-looking woman. If Cameron weren't that secure with her own beauty, she might have felt a little worried.

"Thanks," Chase said warmly, pink lips curving up in a smile.

Cameron toed at a piece of gravel at her feet. "So, you thought about what you're going to tell the others?"

Chase bit her lip – Cameron made a mental note to buy some makeup. She'd show Chase how to do it later on – and shrugged. "Not really, no."

"Well, you can't escape the resemblance," Cameron warned. "You look too much like yourself as a man."

"My cousin, Rebecca," he suggested. "She's a cardiologist in Sydney. I can pretend to be her, say that I went down to Melbourne to visit family and I've sent her in my place for the duration." Chase frowned. "Cuddy would go for that, right?"

"With the shortage of doctors?" Cameron scoffed, nodding. "So long as your cousin hasn't been sued for malpractice, you'll be fine. Besides, we'll say it's only temporary. The background check should run fine, right?" Chase nodded swiftly. "And…do you look like her?"

"We bear resemblance," Chase smirked.

Cameron picked at a piece of lint on her shirt and curiously stared at Chase and the figure, her face and the lift of the cheekbones, the way her hair fell over her features. "What's it like?" she asked suddenly, the curiosity almost too much to bear. "I mean, inside, what's it feel like?"

Chase turned to look at Cameron after a moment, eyes wide. "Scary," she admitted quietly.

"How?"

"I feel…different. Completely. Like my insides got all turned around and changed and I came out differently. My emotions are in _overdrive_ and I'm nervous and scared and anxious and a little excited all at once, and I have this stupid desire to try on all my clothes and be impressive," Chase rattled off all the words. "And…" Chase sighed with a deep exhalation. "Since this morning, I haven't had a single sexual thought about a woman."

Cameron glanced over at him, hiding her smile once more. "You mean…?"

"I think whatever she did, she did the full job on me," Chase said, the shadows of misery in her voice. "And the scariest part is that it feels…normal."

"Normal?" Cameron inquired as they sat there on the trunk of Chase's car. "What," she laughed slightly, terribly amused by all of this. "Like you're…like you're…" She faltered when she realized what Chase was saying. It wasn't just a physical change, it was a complete change through and through. "Oh my god," she said again.

"You really need to stop saying that," Chase said to her.

Cameron smiled ruefully at Chase. "You're a beautiful woman," she said warmly. "You're so screwed when House sees you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Congratulations, James, you're officially single again," House remarked with a smirk, holding up his mug of coffee to toast with. "And the divorce only cost you what, this time? Forty grand?" He chuckled to himself and snapped his fingers for a sugar packet, which Wilson promptly threw over from where he stood at the table. House shook it and turned to Foreman. "Where are your playmates? Don't they know work started hours ago?"

Foreman just shrugged. "I'm not their keeper." He nodded to Wilson. "Why's he here? Are we thinking cancer?"

"After seeing the biopsy, uh, _yeah_," House said, rolling his eyes. He checked his watch, turning to Wilson. "Am I allowed to fire them after four hours pass and they don't show up? What are they doing, having sex again?"

As if on cue, Cameron wandered in the room. "Sorry I'm late, I was helping Chase."

"And the puppy is…where? Cameron, did you let him off the leash?" House asked, rolling his eyes. "We do have a patient whose life I'd like to save in the next day or so. Where's Chase?"

"Melbourne," a new voice remarked. House peered up from stirring his coffee to see a young blonde woman wandering in, knee-length shirt matching her blouse; her heels clicked and clacked their way across the floor. She was Australian too, huh. "I'm Rebecca Chase, I'm Rob's cousin. He called me because he wanted to go pay his Dad last respects. I'm a cardiologist down in Sydney, you can check my credentials."

And she was gorgeous. House was leering, seeing if he couldn't scare this one off. Foreman had just arched an eyebrow and somewhere behind him, Wilson was sputtering, choking on the coffee he'd just sipped. Figured. Wilson always liked blondes. And doctors. And gorgeous young women who were doctors, blondes, and had an accent.

"So, you want to fill in?" House inquired, glancing to Cameron and grinning lasciviously. "Cameron, have you been getting adventurous in the janitor's closet?"

Cameron scoffed and sat down. "Grow up," she muttered, picking up her files.

House was still staring. "Rebecca Chase, huh?" He limped over to her and she seemed to hang her head just slightly, a barrette clipping back wavy hair on one side. "Cardiologist? You as good as your cousin?"

"I try to be," she answered, finally lifting her glance and keeping it locked with House for a moment before her gaze flickered to Foreman, then to Wilson, resting there before her cheeks turned pink. House glanced over his shoulder to find Wilson staring at her. "My references are very good. And I'd only be here until Robert returned."

"Well, I always did like a nice piece of artwork," he said, directing the comment at Cameron. He limped past, grabbing her ass as he went and smirking at the squeal of a sound she gave.

"I can sue you," she hissed.

"House," Foreman said warningly. "What the hell are you doing?"

House just grinned. "Jimmy, stop drooling. And Becky, you're hired."

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Chase had slipped into the new body, the new emotions, and the new way of life with some ease. Cameron had come over to show the proper application of makeup, how things went when it came to dressing, and Chase could do the rest when it came to hair. She was stepping into the elevator, hair half-pinned up with bobby pins as she studied a chart. She pressed floor three and glanced up, ready to go when she heard a man's voice shouting, "hold the door!"

Chase leaned forward, extending one arm and holding the elevator, eyes widened when she saw that it was Wilson calling for her to hold it.

With the new body came the new feelings and the new desires and Chase had been slightly horrified to find herself deeply interested and, in fact, crushing on Dr. Wilson. She gave him a nervous smile. "Where're you going?" she asked politely, gesturing to the buttons.

"Three's good," he offered, smiling warmly at her and not really taking his eyes off of her, swaying slightly back and forth. "So, what part of Australia are you from?"

"Sydney," Chase responded with a smile, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. Damn Wilson and his ability to charm a woman. "I work at the hospital there, normally." She bit down on her lip and tasted the cherry gloss that Cameron had handed over that morning. She gave Wilson a coy smile, idly toying with a lock of hair and leaning against the wall of the elevator with her hip, clearing her throat when she realized that probably wasn't very ladylike.

The doors closed and began moving upwards and Chase felt her heart beating all too hard in her chest and her face must have been absolutely pink. Wilson was no more than three inches away, so close, so close that Chase could smell the cologne and his aftershave and the vague smell of coffee and mint. She took a deep breath and inhaled her own perfume – something Chanel that Cameron had suggested when Chase had said that price was no problem.

Chase glanced to the side and smiled as prettily as she could muster and Wilson smiled back.

They passed the first floor.

"You enjoying…"

"Yeah, yeah, lots."

Chase wasn't even pretending not to look now, her breath a little faster than before as she kept her eyes on Wilson's profile, eyes scanning downwards to his arms – hands, oh, they'd probably know exactly where to touch – and then lower, grazing crotch-level before finding their way back up and Chase found Wilson was staring right back at her. All that talk with Cameron about not having any sexual thoughts had to be amended. Her heart beating and her blood pumping, Chase was definitely having some very sexual thoughts about Wilson right then and there.

They passed the second floor.

Chase licked her lower lip, tasting cherry again and vowed to try and think of something else, something far from sexy, something terribly repulsive. She turned to give Wilson one last lingering look, but he was already staring back at her, lunging forward and hitting the STOP button on the elevator, wrapping his arms around her waist and surging forward, kissing her desperately, stumbling into the back corner of the elevator, Chase in his arms.

His hands went for her skirt, lifting the hem and both of his hands – definitely strong, but being so gentle – stroked up and down her silk stockings. He lifted one hand and cupped Chase's cheek, kissing her as she moaned and fell further into his arms, his hand burying amongst locks of blonde hair.

Chase parted long enough to draw a breath, and gasp Wilson's name in a soft, breathless manner, leaning back in for another kiss, wrapping one leg around his waist as they rocked slightly, creating a dull 'thud' as Wilson's back hit the wall.

He brushed aside Chase's hair, leaning in and kissing softly up her neck, gently teasing the skin behind Chase's earlobe with his teeth, one hand untucking her blouse and pushing up skin, thumb brushing against her taut stomach and hovering, as though waiting for permission.

"Touch," Chase begged frantically, and Wilson moved his hand a little higher, softly cupping at Chase's breast, thumb digging in past the silk of her lilac bra and lightly rubbing the nipple. She kissed a little harder, before easing away and gasping for breath, disentangling herself from Wilson and tucking in her shirt again, clearing her throat and letting out a pleased sound.

Wilson wiped at his lips, breathing just as raggedly as Chase was and leaned forward, putting the elevator back into motion.

The doors opened on the third floor and Chase winked at Wilson before walking out, chin held high and strutting her way into the diagnostics office. Wilson lingered for a moment, as Chase saw when she glanced over her shoulder, and he looked as though he was appraising her as she went.

Chase waved to him as she turned a corner.

House, who had been standing with Cameron by the elevators on the third floor, had seen it all. "What you just saw was the future ex-Mrs. Wilson walk by us." 

* * *

"You dog," House remarked, grinning at Wilson as Wilson navigated his house, fidgeting with his suit jacket and checking his reflection in the mirror. "You didn't even wait a week until you moved in on her." He was reclined on Wilson's couch, eating chips. "Let me guess. Corsage, the DHA, condoms in your wallet that are glow in the dark?" 

Wilson buttoned up his jacket, smoothing back his hair. "No. No corsage."

"You're not going to get her in the sack," House warned. Wilson's smile just increased, the wattage nearly blinding now as he showed House a dozen red roses, dappled with baby's breath. House sat up slowly, putting the chips aside and widening his eyes. "Why, yes, Jimmy, I do," he smirked.

"Very funny. Cameron said she liked roses," Wilson retorted, tucking away his wallet into his pants. He spread his arms, taking a deep breath. "How do I look?" he asked nervously, roses clasped tightly in his hand. House tipped his head to the side and stared, not saying much of anything, causing Wilson to flush pink. "House, come on, I hate when you do this. Say something."

"Passable."

The doorbell rang. "_God_, that's her," Wilson murmured anxiously, checking his reflection again and checking his breath, popping another breath mint, just in case. His hair fell in his eyes and he chewed hard on his lip.

"The fact that you're dating so soon after your divorce is one thing," House remarked, popping another chip into his mouth. "I want to know why she's showing up here."

Wilson pulled on his coat, grabbing his scarf. "Her place is a mess, apparently."

"I still think it's weird, you dating Chase's cousin," he said, but he slowly got to his feet and limped over, learning against the archway in the main hall so he could see the happenings. Wilson drew the door open and House arched an eyebrow as Rebecca wandered inside, Wilson falling over his feet to try and make her feel welcome.

"Hey," he murmured softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek, holding out the bouquet.

Rebecca's eyes widened. She was wearing a yellow summer dress, a shawl covering her shoulders and a long coat draped over her arm. House tipped his head to the side to observe the legs – long, quality long – and raised his eyes to check out the hair – small sparkling pins holding it in an updo. Wilson, suffice to say, had gone speechless. "Are those for me?" she asked softly, taking the bouquet into her arms and beaming, her whole face lighting up. She gave Wilson a pecked kiss on the cheek. "They're gorgeous, thank you, Wilson!"

"It's…you can call me James," he assured, awkwardly glancing back to House, hissing, 'out'.

Rebecca nodded. "Of course. James." She gave House a wink over Wilson's shoulder and right then and there, that girl won at least a night free of House bugging Wilson over the phone and saving him from the date. Wilson helped her into her coat and then looped his arm in hers. "Should we be off?"

"Of course," Wilson agreed, turning to raise his gloves to House. "Let yourself out," he said with a warm smile.

And then, there was one.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

He took her to a small Italian restaurant that looked suspiciously like the one House had taken Cameron to. Then again, it wasn't so much of a stretch to assume that they shared date spots. Cameron had prepped Chase, from the makeup and the hair and the dress, down to the more intimate choices – the underwear, the foreplay tips, the shaving. "Honestly, Cameron, I know how to shave my legs," Chase had scoffed, like any good swimmer would.

"Red or white wine?" Wilson inquired, his gaze glancing over the list, but his eyes always flickered up to meet hers. "You look…really, really amazing," he said softly.

Chase just laughed, glancing down and resting the napkin in her lap. "You've said that already," she reminded him gently, nudging his calf slightly with her heel playfully. "About five times." She leaned forward and peered at the wine list. "White would be nice. A Chardonnay."

"Sounds perfect," Wilson agreed, signaling the waiter and ordering the appetizer and wine in rich Italian tones. Chase narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. "I…happened to know a few phrases?"

"You certainly know how to charm a woman," Chase said with a pleased grin. She placed a hand to her necklace, fidgeting slightly, but her eyes stayed on Wilson the whole time, already knowing she would let him order. He was an old hand at this. She just relaxed into her chair, wiggled her toes and tried to suppress the urge to slip her foot out of her shoe and try progressing the night along. Chase had to be good.

Wilson ordered in Italian again when the wine came and Wilson held up a glass. "To a promising start," he said warmly, and Chase toasted to that warmly. "So, from Sydney, you said? Did you always want to be a doctor?" he asked her, leaning forward just slightly. "When you were younger, what was the dream, you know, the _one_?"

Chase's grin grew a little bit wider. The famed DHA, and she was on the receiving end. Contrary to everything Chase had previously thought, the actual effect was quite positive. "I wanted to be the best in med school," Chase answered, refolding the napkin once more and reaching out idly for a toothpick on the table. Chase toyed with the wrapping, drawing it out and idly chewing on it. "I wanted to be great."

"How about the five-year plan?" Wilson commented. "I mean, greatness, not so measurable, but five years can do a lot of damage."

The salad came out and Chase placed the toothpick down, picking up her fork. It was manipulative, it was prepared, and it was so planned that it reeked of having blueprints, but Chase was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. At least Chase's ears weren't pierced; no earrings to compliment. "Five years, hm?"

"Five years," Wilson agreed. Chase glanced up from her salad and found that Wilson had been looking at her intently the whole time. "That's what, 2010? Rebecca Chase…you got a middle name?"

"Sarah," Chase nodded, a fact by memory.

"Okay, Rebecca Sarah Chase," Wilson said her full name like he was saying the most important thing in the world, leaning forward and taking her hand in his. "Where do you want to be in five years?"

Chase just gave Wilson a playful grin, leaning forward and licking her lower lip. "Well," she said flippantly. "If I stay here, I can become a wombat full-time in Dr. House's eyes!" she said enthusiastically. "And apparently, there are some really hot oncologists at the hospital. You met any of them?"

Wilson just sputtered his laughter, eyes sparkling. He didn't let go of her hand, thumb brushing gentle circles there. "I'll keep an eye out."

"And you, James Wilson?" Chase asked, lips curved up – painted with burgundy lipstick. "What's your aspiration?"

Wilson looked Chase dead in the eyes, not breaking eye contact once. He still had her hand gently and for just one moment, Chase forgot how to breathe properly. "I want to find the one. I'm tired of thinking I have. I want that one person who's supposed to be out there to finally go from a guest appearance in my life to starring role."

Chase just gave a nervous smile and Wilson let go of her hand to eat dinner.

* * *

He drove her back to his place and he couldn't stop looking at her. Wilson found it slightly difficult to keep his eyes on the road and he was more than a little glad that he didn't live that far from the restaurant. He'd called while she took a bathroom break and made sure House was gone.

Everything was perfect.

"That was amazing," she remarked warmly, one hand on her stomach. "I don't think I've had food that good in years. You really know how to pick them, James."

Wilson pulled into his driveway, turning the car off, but not getting out. "I really do," he agreed, leaning over the gearshift and cupping her face, intending to press a slow kiss to her lips, slowly leaning over a little more, but she pushed back and they met halfway. The kiss went on long enough that Wilson began to get hard and he eased away – it would be really bad to get a full-on erection and scare her off. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, hurrying around the front to open the door for her and take her hand as she stepped out.

"Aren't you a gentleman," she marveled. "And here I thought they were extinct."

Wilson tugged her a little closer, wrapping one arm around her hip and taking her other hand, dancing with her in a slow sway. "Well," he began, "they have been known to be tricky to find…" He dipped her, leaning over for a kiss, "…but they do exist."

She laughed in delight, hands on his chest. "My god, you should be a lethal weapon for charming women. What is your secret?"

"Nothing is ever too much," he assured her, setting her upright as he led the way into his house. "You were okay for a nightcap, right?" She nodded briskly and followed him into the house, handing Wilson her jacket and shawl, idly wandering around the foyer and seemingly scoping out the area. Wilson hung up both sets of clothes meticulously, making sure everything was neat before he rested a hand at the small of her back and led her inside.

"Should I sit…"

"Just on the couch, I'll get the drinks," Wilson agreed, heading for the bar and leaning over, searching for a few glasses and putting on the coffee – decaf – before finding the Bailey's. He set the coffee machine on a timer, watching her through the arched doorway and smiling to himself as she precariously and hesitantly stretched out on the couch, tucking one leg under the other, turning to catch his gaze and give him a smile. God, she was beautiful. She adjusted the straps of her dress, fidgeting with her hair just slightly and Wilson found himself staring.

_You've only known her for a few days, this is crazy_, his subconscious was screaming at him. _But you never know until you try, and you were only with Julie for two weeks before you got hitched._

He turned his attention back to reality when the coffee maker made a small sound and he poured the drinks, heading to her side and handing her one as he sat down. "Decaf," he assured. "You'll be sleeping like a baby tonight."

She sipped lightly at the cup, leaving a lipstick smudge on the rim that she quickly wiped off. "I didn't really have sleeping in mind tonight," she confessed.

Wilson slowly grinned, sipping at his drink. "Rebecca Chase," he said, some degree of wonder in his voice. "Whatever are you implying?"

She leaned over, placed the coffee cup down on the table and grabbed Wilson by the collar, pulling him towards her for another kiss. He could live on those kisses, Wilson suspected, just take them and live on them until the day he died because she tasted of a dozen good things in one and she was warm and beautiful.

He eased away, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead. "Would you like a tour of my house?"

"I'd like a tour of your bedroom," she requested, standing before Wilson could and extending her hand to his. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she looked almost embarrassed to have asked, but she was still beckoning him to his feet and when he finally rose, she smiled and all the anxiety melted away.

Wilson took the lead, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure she was still following him up the stairs, but her hand was on the banister and she was looking up, her other hand on the wall, as if to steady herself. Wilson hadn't brought a woman back to his bedroom that hadn't become his wife in twenty years. He always took his mistresses elsewhere; to hotels, to motels, to their place.

He wondered if she was going to follow the pattern. He couldn't help but hope she might.

He opened the door to his bedroom – perfectly neat – and she passed him by, whistling lightly. "Neat. Tidy. Are you, by chance, OCD?"

"A man too afraid of his mother's warnings." Wilson shrugged, watching her wander about his bedroom and explore it much the same way she'd done with his foyer. She touched the drapes lightly, almost marveling, before turning her attention to the bed. She wandered over, sitting down on the edge, peering up at Wilson as she slowly began to take out the little pins in her hair. Wilson watched, utterly transfixed, as if this was some sort of strange ritual.

Moments later, her hair fell around her face and she placed the pins in a small pile on the floor.

"You look beautiful," he said, his throat dry.

She gave him a bashful smile. "That's eight times." Something seemed to happen then, because she stood, brushing her hands on her dress awkwardly and turning, searching around the room. "Maybe this is wrong," she mumbled softly. "Maybe I should…"

"Don't go," Wilson quietly protested, catching her by the wrist gently. He whispered softly to her as he brushed her hair from her face. "It's okay," he assured. "Stay." He slid his other arm around her waist and swayed back and forth just lightly, as if trying to calm a colic child. She seemed to settle in his arms and he nestled his nose in against her hair and took a deep breath, smelling berries and jasmine and something a little more exotic, pressing kisses up her neck and slowly nipping up along her jaw. "Stay," he pleaded quietly, lips pressed to her ear.

She looked at him, eyes wide and she nodded – just once. "Okay."

He gently eased her to the bed and pushed off his jacket, draping it over the chair. His wallet came out as she took off her watch, and he pried off his socks while she took off her heels. She made a move for her zipper and that was when Wilson had to stop her, stepping forward and taking her hands in his, kissing each palm and shifting on the bed behind her, unzipping her dress and easing her back onto the duvet with both hands, scrambling to stand up and unbutton his shirt.

She was blushing furiously now, dress loose, but not off and Wilson was starting to wonder.

"Rebecca," he said quietly, arching a curious eyebrow as he slid off his shirt, only his pants and boxers left.

She gave her a nervous smile. "Yeah?"

"Have you done this before?"

She shook her head vehemently and Wilson could have let out a soft cry at how vulnerable she looked at that moment, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, looking far younger than she had any right to look. He slowly eased himself down onto the bed and stroked her cheek with his fingers. "Never?"

"No," she whispered. "I've never been with a man."

"Rebecca, you're a twenty-seven year old drop-dead gorgeous doctor," Wilson said incredulously. "How is that possible?"

She just looked up at him, the distance between them so scant. "I guess I just never found the right man," she said, almost like it was a question, but she closed the distance between them slowly, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss as he moved his hands forward to pry her dress off over her head, disheveling her hair in the process.

He leaned in after a moment's hesitation – just to study her lips, memorizing the texture before memorizing the taste – and took what was offered and nothing more, easing her down until they were horizontal on the bed and she was in her lilac bra and panties. Her fingers lightly tugged at his pants and pushed them down and Wilson could tell she was breathing heavily, and he eased down once more to place kisses up her torso. He whispered soothingly to her. "I'll be gentle," he promised, holding her hips lightly and rubbing there with his thumb as he stroked one hand up her back to unclasp her bra.

She closed her eyes slowly, hair fanning out on the pillow like a halo as Wilson pushed aside the bra and leaned down to slowly kiss across the breadth of her breasts, brushing his lips over her nipples as he eased down his boxers and splayed his palms on her hips. He had a condom in his hands and he slowly rolled it on, eyes always on her, careful not to scare her off.

"Can I?" he exhaled, asking his permission.

She nodded, one hand up by her forehead – like southern belles in days of old before a fainting spell – and there was the faint trace of a smile on her lips.

Wilson leaned up to give her another long kiss, drawing it out until he was breathless and eased lower, nudging her underwear down inch by inch, and then the clothes were in piles by the bedside and Wilson couldn't help but give a smile. She opened her eyes after a moment without him touching her and stared up at him. "What?" she asked, worried.

"You're a natural blonde," Wilson remarked in wonderment, cupping her cheek and kissing down her neck. He pressed a finger to her lips when she smirked and nearly said something. "I'm going to make this…memorable," he promised, stroking both hands up and down her thighs, feeling goosebumps soon under his careful touch. The smile on her face was slowly growing and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

She leaned up and slowly wrapped an arm around his neck, bringing him down to the bed with her and he parted her legs slowly and eased inside, listening to her gasp.

And as the tightness eased and the pained whimper disappeared from her voice, Wilson kissed her slowly and lovingly, gentle as he parted her lips as well while he pushed inside her just a little deeper. Sure enough and soon enough, her cries turned from pain to pleasure.

She would remember it. And he would be smitten come morning.

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Chase was late to the meeting in the morning, trying to tame her hair and pin it up, struggling to get into her lab coat as Cameron, Foreman, and House all stared at her. She cleared her throat and bit down on her lip – hadn't had time for a shower, she'd woken in Wilson's snug embrace and had seen the clock only to let out a sound of panic and rush around for her clothes, redressing before Wilson could see her without any.

"You're late," House said evenly, bringing Chase back to reality.

Chase swallowed nervously. "I know," she said, nodding furiously. "I was thinking about the patient. Went to check something out."

"After your date?" House asked evenly, sipping at his coffee. Out of the corner of her eyes, Chase saw Foreman mouth 'date?' to Cameron. "I hope you at least gave Jimmy a good time."

Chase blushed furiously and turned away, pacing slightly. "If the patient has been exhibiting signs like he has, maybe it's because of a paint-based toxin. Maybe we shouldn't have ruled out external forces."

"Someone poisoning him?" Cameron interjected. "He had a tendency to piss off his employees…janitorial environment, a lot of inmates went through there for work rehabilitation."

"Yeah," Foreman scoffed. "This is all some pissed-off inmate, killing a man because he needed to get his kicks and get sent _back_ to prison."

Chase rolled her eyes. "We're treating the patient, not changing the world," she muttered with a sneer, crossing her arms. She turned to House, shrugging. "Anyway, that's what I figured." House was staring at her and it was flustering her further; she took a step back, as though that would give her a little more space.

House just continued staring at her for another thirty seconds before nodding. "Not bad. Cameron, run a tox screen looking for paint in high doses. Foreman, stay with the patient. Chase, stay here."

The other two scrambled away and Chase just held her ground, knowing that House would notice the same clothes as the night before and she kept her chin high, arching an eyebrow.

"What?" Chase challenged as House limped towards her.

House gave her a half-smirk. "You went on a date with my best friend last night _and_ you slept with him. I presume you slept with him at his house and in his bed, seeing as I got the call to vacate."

"So what if I did, it's my life," Chase reacted defensively, crossing her arms.

House shrugged. "He happens to be my best friend. We're very close. I think I'm supposed to do things like care." He glanced to the door to find a man standing there, clearing his throat as though to beg entrance, a large bouquet of flowers in his arms. Chase and House both stared at the man for a moment before he slowly inched his way inside. "Yes?" House spat finally.

"Uh, delivery for Rebecca Chase?"

House just stared at Chase. "Well, at least now I know you slept with him," he said. "As though the hair wasn't obvious enough." He glanced over to the delivery as Chase took it into her arms and read the card, going pink. "Wow, you really must have put out for that many wildflowers," he pointed out.

Chase didn't answer, just grinned at the writing on the card.

_'THIS FRIDAY?'  
_

* * *

Cameron took Chase out for drinks on Friday evening, to a bar where they served great tequila shots and better margaritas. Cameron was nearly desperate with curiosity. Chase and Wilson seemed to be doing some sort of tiptoeing dance around each other, flirting and teasing and acting much too adorable for words.

"You've totally gotten him to fall for you," Cameron pointed out, idly dabbing at the salt coating the rim of her glass.

Chase shrugged. "He'll move on soon enough," she argued, but her cheeks were pink and she had barely touched her alcohol. "You know Wilson," she added with a scoff. "There's a new woman every week until he proposes to one and the cycle starts again." She was wearing tight jeans, a tight, light blue sweater and a jacket with a scarf. She was ready for date number two and the drinks of courage were only the prelude to the rest.

Cameron peered at Chase curiously. "Can I ask a kind of weird question?"

"You've never hesitated before," Chase said with a smirk.

Cameron toyed with the swizzle stick in her drink and noted that Chase was glancing at her watch, as though Wilson might suddenly appear half an hour earlier than expected. He knew they were at the bar and he was coming to fetch Chase for their date – apparently, Chase got to choose this time, but she was mum on where they'd be going. "When we…" Cameron trailed off, her mouth dry.

"When we what?"

"When we had sex, was I good?" Cameron blurted out, as though her courage would leave her if she didn't. Chase widened her eyes, but there was a smile growing on her lips and Cameron couldn't help seeing that as anything but a bad sign. But then, Chase did something terrible and didn't say anything at all, just sipped at her drink. "Chase!" Cameron pleaded.

Chase just hid a smile behind her hand and snorted with laughter. When the hand was removed, Chase was smirking. "I told you," she said with a scoff. "It didn't suck. And I meant it."

Cameron smiled genuinely, her face lighting up. "Thanks," she provided. "You were pretty good too. I mean, I was…you know, on crystal meth."

"Wild," Chase added, her smirk widening just slightly and it was all too easy to mistake the face for Rob's in the dim light of the bar. It was weird, thinking that this was Chase and Cameron had started to wonder if it was just temporary. Cameron had almost begun to wonder if it could be permanent. Worse, she'd begun to hope it _might_ be permanent. It was nice, having a woman friend at work. Cameron was about to open her mouth and say so when Chase sat up a little straighter in the booth and waved in the direction of the door.

Wilson must have arrived.

"He's fallen for you," Cameron said simply.

Chase didn't even look at Cameron, still waving to Wilson. "He has not," Chase replied in a sing-song voice through gritted teeth. Cameron shifted in the booth, the creak of the leather the only hint that she had moved at all. She had to admit that Wilson looked good – decked out in a casual pair of jeans, a cream button-down shirt, and a suede jacket, hair without any gel for once. Cameron turned back to Chase and arched an eyebrow.

"How was the sex with him?" she asked curiously.

Chase just gave Cameron a mildly unimpressed look and shifted out of the booth, digging out the thin wallet from her jeans and laying down a few bills. "I don't tell people about our sex when they ask." Chase gestured between the two of them.

"Oh, come on," Cameron protested. This wasn't any fun if Chase wasn't going to kiss and tell. "One nod for good, two nods for great?"

Chase just stared.

"One adjective, please," Cameron begged. It was too good to pass up, and she'd been wondering ever since the morning after their first date. It was _weird_. She was used to hearing rumors about Chase and the nurses, the occasional resident. Once, she had a weird story about Chase and a patient in the clinic room that she was sixty percent sure was just gossip.

Chase turned to look at Wilson, shifting her scarf a little. "Amazing," was all she said before turning to the door and greeting Wilson with a soft kiss on the cheek, wrapping her arm around his waist. They were smiling and laughing as they left, already engrossed in their conversation.

Cameron was beginning to get a bit jealous.

* * *

House was at work the next morning with Wilson and he was ready to grill him about the previous night. The man didn't get away with going on dates with House's fellows and not giving him any details. Especially when his newest fellow had legs that gave Cameron's a run for her money – though, if House had to choose, he'd pick Cameron's legs, but the new, improved Chase's chest, Chase's lips, and then probably Cameron's cheekbones in this odd, just invented Frankenstein monster of House's.

House was in Wilson's office before Wilson came back from running a biopsy and he found the photos first. A thin rectangular strip, the kind you got in the mall booth. House had fond memories of being younger and stumbling into those things to make out. He picked up the one from Wilson's desk, eyes scrolling over the progression.

At least Wilson looked happy again, but then, he always looked happy at this stage. The pictures showed Wilson and Chase smiling, laughing, then the last attested to the fact that they, too, had probably wound up making out in the small booth. Wilson strolled into the room, humming a Broadway tune under his breath.

"House, hi!" He was sounding perky too. He probably got lucky again.

House held up the photo strip. "Did you give her your letterman's jacket too?"

Wilson took the photos into his hand reverently, beaming like House had just told him he didn't have to pay alimony for the rest of his life. "We went for a beer, then she pried me to the arcade to play pinball and race cars, I dragged her into the booth for these photos…"

"And then you took her home and you both had a little death?" House interrupted.

Wilson rolled his eyes, smoothly sitting down in his chair and adjusting everything on his desk to make sure it was neat. "Yes, we went back to my place, but it was mainly to talk."

House sat down carefully, leaning his cane against Wilson's desk. "Jimmy, are you packing karats?"

Wilson's response was a stammered and funny-sounding string of vowels and consonants that would have been better served as a sentence, but they never really got that far. Instead, he just babbled until House knew. The curious expression on House's face was slowly replaced with a knowing smirk.

"Don't tell her," Wilson finally found coherence.

House just held up his hands in protest. "I'd say she set a new record, but you were already hitching up with Julie at this point in the relationship. Oh, and Wilson?"

"Yeah?"

"I already lost one Chase," he said, glaring down at Wilson as he stood with the help of his cane. "Drive another one away and I'm making you sit through the painful eternity of interviews and divorce hearings." He gave Wilson one more nod before he left Oncology for his own office.

Along the way, he bumped into Chase.

She dropped her papers to the floor, apologizing madly as she crouched down to pick them all up before even realizing who it was she'd bumped into. House just stood there, waiting for his presence to be registered – and getting a damn good eyeful down her blouse in the meantime. As Chase stood, her eyes were on the cane and she was very slow to register eye contact.

"I know, it's a badly obvious phallic symbol," House commented cheerfully, holding up his cane, "but it gets chicks thinking what I need them to be thinking."

"House," Chase squeaked. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Still thinking about Jimmy, huh?"

She flushed a really funny color of pink and House just smirked a little more, nodding towards the office. Chase fell into step with him, desperately putting the papers back into order. She opened the door for him and neither of them had said a word yet. House was curious as to why Chase was in on a Saturday, actually, but he didn't voice that aloud either.

"I just had a rough night of sleep," Chase finally said.

"Liar," House accused. "You were with Wilson last night. You had a great night of sleep, but he kept you up too late with his acrobatics."

Chase glared at House. Wow, that one had to run in the family.

"My personal life is none of your business," Chase said tersely.

House managed to keep his expression to a faint, bemused grin as he sat down in his chair while Chase handed him test results. "You must've skipped that part in the contract where I get to intrude on my fellow's personal lives. Especially when said fellow is screwing my best friend." She winced at that. "I'm sorry, too crude? Would you prefer making love?"

"No, that one's for you and Cameron," Chase retorted. Gossip had to have spread fast. That or little Robbie and his cousin shared a little too much.

They stared at each other for a moment and House debated telling her about the inevitable proposal. Probably on the third date. Instead, he just shrugged and sat back, popping a Vicodin into his mouth and studying the results.

"That it?" Chase asked warily.

"You are dismissed," House confirmed, waving his hand lazily. "Go and snog Jimmy, or whatever it is you Brits do."

"Australian," through gritted teeth as she left.

House dropped the paper and watched her go, his gaze turned suspicious. Must have been one tight-knit family, for both Rebecca and Rob to pick up the same habits, mannerisms, and reaction to him. When she was completely gone, he turned to his computer and pulled up the browser, ready to search for Rebecca Chase and her history.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

The third date was at the nicest restaurant Chase had ever seen in her life. Wilson had warned her to wear her finest – an issue as Chase didn't have any finest until Cameron took her to Saks and let her go wild in the formal section – and he'd shown up dressed in the nicest suit she'd seen since the days of Rowan's symposiums. He showed up with a corsage, a kiss to her palm, and a soft, "you look radiant," to make her blush.

They'd had a minor quibble earlier in the day about when the date started, but that had been resolved by noon when House gave Chase the afternoon off and it didn't matter when the date began because she had all the time in the world to get ready.

Chase folded the napkin in her lap and smiled at Wilson over dinner, trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. It felt different, more special than usual. Wilson looked amazing as well and there was a sort of sensation, Chase could feel it. Tonight was different.

Over white wine and lamb with mint jelly, they spoke about oncology and cardiology and a dozen other topics until Chase excused herself to freshen up, wanting to look perfect for the ride home, hoping Wilson would invite her in again.

"He seems like a very nice man," a voice from behind her in the bathroom made Chase jump. Her eyes widened and she caught Anya's reflection in the mirror. "You know, you're very good-looking this way," she said approvingly.

Chase turned around, heart beating too fast. "You!" she accused angrily. "You did this to me!"

"Oh, please," Anya muttered, rolling her eyes. "Like you haven't been enjoying it on some sort of level. I just wanted to check on your progress. See how you felt. See how things are going."

"Very well," Chase replied tersely, washing her hands. "When are you turning me back into a man?"

Anya didn't move, simply crossed her arms over her tight sweater. "Not yet. Soon. But you're going to have a choice." Chase just continued scrubbing at her hands, rolling her eyes. "It won't be so simple, Robert. I don't like simple." Chase was beginning to feel uneasy as Anya very lightly brushed a stray strand of hair off Chase's forehead. "Quite good-looking. I do good work."

And she was gone, as though Chase had blinked and suddenly, she had disappeared.

Chase stared at herself in the mirror until she could compose herself, dabbing at the corner of her eyes and lips with her thumb. Anya couldn't just rile her up like that. Pathetic attempt, really. Chase took another deep long breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Anya was right about one thing. Chase did look pretty damn good that way. She took one last deep breath before heading back to the table to find Wilson fidgeting with the silverware.

"Sorry about that," Chase mumbled her apology quietly. "The bill come?"

Wilson caught her eyes. "Not yet. Becca, there's something I need to ask you before we go."

Chase felt something in her stomach drop. This couldn't go well. Not at all. _Oh God_…

Before her eyes, Wilson dropped to one knee, taking her left hand into his and pressing the softest of kisses there against her skin. Chase had segued into a sort of shock that paralyzed from the feet all the way up, until she felt nothing but numb. She focused on breathing, couldn't hear anything but Wilson, couldn't see anything but his face. He dug out a velvet box and opened it slowly.

"Rebecca Sarah Chase, will you be my wife?"

_Fuck_.

* * *

Cameron covered her yawn with one hand, stumbling to the door of her apartment to quell the sound of the sharp knocks and the buzzer that kept going off again and again and again. "Hold on!" she commanded in a tiredly stern voice. She sighed and knotted her robe a little tighter as she drew the door open to find Chase on her doorstep with a bag from the local 7-11, a formal gown, and a distressed look. "Please tell me this is a bad dream," Cameron pleaded, leaning heavily against her door. "Chase, it's two in the morning."

"Emergency!" Chase said in a terse voice, pushing right past Cameron. "I got ice cream. That's what women do, right?"

Cameron stared blankly at Chase, who merely held up the bag, eyes wide as could be.

"Right?"

Cameron set her jaw, plucking the bag from Chase's hands. "You eat ice cream, you're on a treadmill for three hours to burn it off and you don't get any fun out of it," she said simply. She took the cartons of ice cream – both chocolate – and put them away in the freezer. She glanced over her shoulder to find Chase nervously hovering and looking all too much like a little girl in her mother's clothes.

"Well, excuse me for not knowing what to do," Chase muttered with a sneer, crossing her arms.

Cameron leaned up on her toes for a key she kept atop her fridge. It was dusty from lack of use and she took it into her palm and headed for a cabinet in the kitchen, unlocking the door and pulling out a bottle of tequila and two shotglasses, presenting them to Chase. "You work tomorrow?" she asked first.

Chase's vehement shake of her head was all it took. Cameron handed over the glasses.

"This is what happens in an emergency."

Chase took the bottle with a hard grip, nodding to the living room. "Come on," she said, sounding shaken by something or other. "Tonight was…" She met Cameron's gaze and exhaled, shaking her head to indicate 'not good'.

* * *

"M…" Cameron was a little bit buzzed. She closed her eyes and tried to chase away the tipsy feeling in her sinking stomach. "He wants…" she slurred. "Wilson wants you to marry him?" Her voice was shrill, somewhat incredulous. Deep down, she felt it was incredibly unfair that Chase was a woman for all of three weeks and suddenly, she's being proposed to. Cameron needed twenty years to get to that point. Just not fair.

Chase had a very antique-looking ring in her fingers, staring at it as the light glinted off the stone. She sighed and shook her head.

"God, he proposed," Cameron muttered, somewhat miserably, as she took another shot. Because it was a curse, wasn't it? To be proposed to by James Wilson. Especially when you knew his history. "Maybe it's a compulsion," she wondered thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her cheek as she lifted the shotglass to her lips and took the tequila back in one smooth go.

Chase handed her a lemon, not prying her gaze away from the ring. "It's…a pretty ring," she remarked.

"Gorgeous," Cameron agreed. "So, how are you going to break it to him?"

"Dearest Doctor Wilson," Chase began snidely, "I'm really a man and I've been cursed by a freakish demon who wants me to know the pain of being a scorned woman and I'm fairly sure that's why I'm with you." She turned to Cameron for the first time in an hour. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Cameron mused. "It might only make him pursue you harder." She giggled slightly at the horrified look on Chase's face. "So…figure it out! Change back!" Chase was staring at the ring again and Cameron just sighed, relaxing back against the chair.

They were both on the floor of her living room, hanging out like it wasn't five in the morning and the sun wasn't rising, pouring in through Cameron's windows.

Cameron slowly twisted the cap back on the tequila. "You …_are_ going to change back, right?" she asked slowly. She was concerned, a little, because maybe she didn't want Chase changing back just yet. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had anyone come by her place just to talk like this.

Chase sighed. "How'd he do it?" she wondered, her voice sounding hollow.

"Do what? Propose? You were there," Cameron pointed out, rubbing her eyes and trying to make the world stop spinning.

"Make me fall in love with him."

Cameron's eyes widened and suddenly, she was _very_ awake and a lot more sober than she'd been a few moments ago. She turned to Chase in shock. She looked all the part of the confused princess in her dress, sitting in a pile of fabric on the ground. Of course, the shotglass was somewhat of an anachronism, but it almost worked.

Chase sighed heavily once more.

"Y…Y-You _love_ Wilson?" Cameron stammered.

Chase barely glanced up, petulantly staring at the ring. "I didn't mean to. Honestly, I never even paid him attention before. And really, I should be curious, right? Wonder about House and maybe have a fantasy about Foreman? Because they're attractive men."

"They are," Cameron agreed, still shocked about Chase's confession.

Chase shook her head. "But I think of _him_." She directed the pronoun at the ring, like it was Wilson personified. "All the time, him," she continued, getting angry by the tone of her voice. "I think about his touch and his stupid lips and the way he looks at me and I'm so fucking infatuated that I can barely stand it, that I get so worked up thinking about his hands sliding over my skin and _god_!" she huffed, exasperated. "What the hell happened to me, Allison! How did he do it?"

Cameron was curious about something and she fought through the drunken haze to put her thoughts into words. "Chase…" She started, reaching over and placing a hand on Chase's leg. "Chase, have you ever been in love? Real love? Not just sex?"

Chase didn't answer, just kept staring angrily at the ring.

Cameron's exhalation was like a 'whoosh' of air and they both sat there silently.

"What are you going to do?" Cameron asked softly.

Chase's answer was barely more than a whisper. "I don't know."

* * *

Chase was in early on Monday morning, the engagement ring tucked away neatly in the pocket of her pleated skirt. The sun had barely risen yet, so she knew that House wouldn't be there. What was expected was that Foreman would be there, opening up and doing rounds to constantly project the 'caring, nicer House' image. She ran into him in the office while making coffee and barely afforded him more than a tired smile. Chase hadn't bothered with make-up and had thrown together an outfit that probably didn't match so much that morning. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping it wasn't too much of a bird's nest.

"Hey, Rebecca," Foreman said, wincing as he did. Foreman – in the few weeks that he'd known of 'Rebecca Chase' – had never called her 'Chase'. Always Rebecca. "What's up? You look uh…"

"Like I've been run over by a truck?" Chase muttered with a smirk, dipping a bag of tea into a mug of hot water and leaning back against the counter. "Why, Foreman, I never knew you cared."

"Seriously," Foreman's voice was quiet and he caught Chase's gaze. "What's going on?"

Chase took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, causing ripples in her tea as she held the mug to her lips. Her eyes flickered up to catch Foreman's gaze as Chase debated telling him everything, confessing everything that had happened. Of course, that would only result in Foreman calling a psych consult and a lovely white jacket with the nicest arms. She just smiled tiredly instead, shaking her head.

"Just some personal matters," Chase said quietly. "Really, don't bother worrying."

Foreman just stared a little more, like he was going to figure it all out with his gaze. Chase just turned slightly so that Foreman wouldn't see it when she rolled her eyes.

"So you, uh…talk to Rob lately?" Foreman ventured curiously, sitting down in one of the chairs as he flipped through charts. The word nonchalant didn't even begin to cover it and Chase turned, far more interested in the show of…well, concern, she supposed. Chase sipped at her tea, arching one eyebrow. "It's not really like him to just disappear, you know? I was expecting some sort of thing with House. Sparks and half the office destroyed with all that pent-up rage?" Foreman chuckled slightly.

Chase just shrugged. "He's probably just visiting family. He likes to be alone then."

"Yeah, well…he doesn't have to be," Foreman remarked. "Stubborn spoiled brat, you know? Rejects the prospects of friends." He gave a scoff. "Least, that's how I see it."

Chase was doing her valiant best to not pout at the rather harsh criticism of her former self. "Why, you miss him or something?"

Foreman's smile was somewhat sheepish. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I'm pretty sure we were friends. I thought he'd tell me if he went off on some kind of walkabout thing, or whatever."

Chase relaxed back in the chair, silently contemplating Foreman's words, even as he was leaving the office – which escaped her attention until she realized that he'd thrown a laugh and a 'see you later, Beck' in her direction. The ring felt like an insistent weight in her pocket and the thought of it was turning her stomach unpleasantly.

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes tightly.

Damn Wilson, anyhow.

* * *

Chase trudged inside her apartment that night exhausted, having avoided Wilson at every turn during the day. She almost should have _expected_ to come home to find Anya sitting in the smoking chair in the living room. This must have been why she'd held off, the reason why she had forced Chase to wait.

"Your decorator has excellent taste," Anya provided as Chase locked up behind her. "Even though I don't think the colors are supposed to go together."

"What do you want?" Chase mumbled, shoving her bag and jacket into the foyer closet without much of a care of how messy it was. She wasn't in the mood for any of this and really, she had to call Wilson and tell him…and tell him. _Fuck_. Chase bit a curse back from being said aloud. She didn't even know what she was going to say. Yes? No? Ask again later?

Anya didn't move, simply continued lounging. "Time to make a choice." Her face had lit up with the most ugly grin Chase had ever seen. "Honestly, I think I'm getting a promotion for this. I mean, if you say no, I'll have scorned James Wilson in effect. Now that's effective scorning."

Chase just rolled her eyes. "What if I ask to stay this way?"

"Would you really?" Anya demanded bluntly.

Chase turned to the full-length mirror in the foyer, looking at herself in the glass, sighing slightly. Her hand was shaking, Chase realized, as she ran it through her hair and tried to imagine a future of that and only that. Of…Wilson, maybe. But then, Wilson wasn't exactly known for his loyalty. "Do you know the future?" Chase asked quietly.

"Yes."

Chase took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. "Will he cheat?"

There was a long pause and when Chase opened her eyes, Anya was standing just behind her, peering over her shoulder. "Yes." Chase winced, as though punched in the gut, and closed her eyes tightly once more.

When she opened them, Anya was looking at her expectantly for an answer.

It came all too easily, but it hurt to speak the three words:

"Change me back."

* * *

Wilson left twenty voicemails on Chase's answering machine; demanding an answer, demanding her whereabouts, demanding an appearance, demanding an explanation. Chase never called back; just deleted them all.

He didn't want remnants of _her_ life. Dr. Robert Chase was back.

* * *

Wilson paced when he arrived home from work every day because he couldn't figure out what else to do. She had disappeared without a call or a trace. Chase was back – but not _his_ Chase – and had explained quietly that he'd barely seen Rebecca, that they'd met only briefly at the family home in Melbourne.

"Did she give you an answer?"

"To what question?" was Chase's response.

Wilson paced, wondering if this was what it felt like for his previous wives, to know something was happening, to know that somewhere a decision was being made and he was helpless to help make that choice. He called her apartment every night and always got the machine. Tonight would be the first night that he didn't call her. Because he could recover. Maybe.

The knock at his door sent him running for it, desperate.

One look through the peephole dashed his hopes because it was Chase's head of hair he saw, looking at something in the distance. Wilson pulled open the door, trying to contain his disappointment. Chase turned, holding a bottle of wine in his hands. "Hey," he greeted warmly. "I uh…got a call…"

"From Becca?" Wilson jumped onto the sentence.

Chase held out the wine. "Can I come in?" Wilson didn't understand for a moment. Was the wine for celebration? Would Rebecca suddenly come out of the darkness and kiss him the way only she could, with that twinkle in her eyes and her lips tasting of berries? Or was this sympathy from Chase?

He let him in and uncorked the wine while Chase settled into Wilson's home.

Chase was sitting on the ground in Wilson's living room and in front of him on the oak coffee table was the engagement ring that Wilson had given to Rebecca. His heart sunk down into his stomach as Wilson realized that the red wine was sympathy after all. Chase gave Wilson a sad smile as Wilson slowly slid down until he was sitting down on the ground some feet from Chase, curling the glass of wine in his hands.

He stared forward, the feeling in him something akin to true, paralyzing heartache.

"I'm sorry," Chase offered quietly.

Wilson scoffed. "Hate to say it, but that's really no help."

Chase cleared his throat awkwardly. "If it _is_ any consolation, my cousin…Rebecca…she really loved you. I mean, really did." He turned and offered a quirk of a smile.

"So why didn't she say yes?" Wilson asked bluntly, his eyes on the ring.

Chase didn't answer, just turned away. "It's complicated."

Wilson picked up the ring, pocketing it.

"She loved you," Chase reiterated quietly. "If she could have…she'd have stayed with you as long as she could have." His gaze was back on Wilson and he didn't pull it away for one second. Wilson felt a flush in his cheeks at being stared at so intently. "She loved you," he promised. "Rebecca Chase loved you."

Wilson just stared forward, wondering why it mattered so much that this time, he never even had a chance to give her a reason to leave.

That night, Chase dreamt of a warmth that could only be quantified as happiness; a warmth that surrounded Chase as she – yes, _she_; changed in her dream and far older – was embraced by a young boy with Chase's eyes and Wilson's smile.

Chase woke up cold, but sure.

He'd made his choice.

END


End file.
